Parilitas
by Larilie
Summary: Grimmaud place is boring, but then Lupin brings a visitor. Who is she, and what is she hiding? Set in Order of The Phoenix.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Ok, so here's the thing. I do not have not and never will own Harry Potter. J.K Rowling does. Unfortunately, that doesn't stop my mad, crazy mind running rampant all over it. Sorry.

Right, so I had mocks. UGH. And this is what I did when I was not revising, in a misguided attempt to chill and wind down. Now won't leave me alone. Ah well. Thats me. (But sitting in a French exam, trying to concentrate on the verb to be born- and its irregualr- when this is shouting plot details at me is really, really frustrating. But they were good plot details.)

**Parilitas**

Harry stifled a yawn.

So this was what happened at Grimmauld Place in the summer.

Boring.

He turned to Ron, who was scrubbing bad-temperedly at a stubborn piece of dirt on some ancient china that had been unearthed from the back of a cupboard, and (much to Sirius' astonishment) didn't have the Black family crest on it, which was therefore deemed suitable for use. Harry picked up what felt like his millionth cup, and looked around interestedly as he heard the front door quietly close.

It was testament to how boring washing eighteenth century china or scrubbing out various long-forgotten rooms was that every time the front door closed, at least sixteen people dropped whatever it was they were doing, and ran towards the source of the noise. Well, at least that's what it felt like to Harry.

"That Lupin?" Ron asked, quietly, trying to identify the muffled voices.

"Yeah." Harry agreed.

Mrs Weasley's voice joined in the conversation, as did Sirius'. Unfamiliar footsteps began to climb the stairs. The voices came closer to the door and Harry and Ron heard actual words, then sentences.

"Do you think she'll be alright?" Remus' voice was still quiet, but just audible.

"We'll look after her." Mrs Weasley promised.

"I know you will, Molly, its just-"

"You know you're welcome at any time. She'll settle in alright, you just watch." She tutted. "How they've managed to miss each other at school though absolutely defeats me."

"I was surprised." Lupin's voice held a smile.

"Won't you stay to dinner at least? She'll want to say goodbye." Mrs Weasley's voice softened. "I'm making meatballs."

"How could I ever resist your meatballs?"

The door handle turned, and Harry and Ron turned, hastily back to their work.

"Nearly finished, you two?" Mrs Weasley surveyed the two sopping wet, prune-fingered fifteen-year-olds with the practiced eye of one with several children. "Ron, dear, you'll never get that off. It's part of the pattern."

Ron grumpily clanged the dish onto the small pile, and fished around in the now opaque water for another.

"Hi Harry, Ron."

"Hi, Prof- Remus. How're you?" Harry's question was well founded. Remus looked more the worse for wear than usual, and it wasn't as if the full moon was approaching.

"I'm fine."

"Who was that with you?" Ron asked, belligerently, not bothering with any degree of tact.

"None of your business." Mrs Weasley was inspecting Harry and Ron's handiwork, "These are awful, have you two actually attempted to clean off this dirt at all?"

"Thought it was part of the pattern." Ron muttered mutinously. Mrs Weasley fixed him with her legendary _look_.

"It's alright Molly; they'll meet her at dinner anyway." Remus turned to Harry and Ron. "My niece, Chrissie. She's just twelve."

"Don't think I saw her at Hogwarts." Ron commented.

"You've probably seen her around. She's in Gryffindor too."

Harry got the feeling that Lupin was keeping something from them. "We'll probably know her when we see her."

Mrs Weasley was supervising the cooking of the dinner, several knives chopping in tandem and meat and herbs rolling themselves into perfect spheres while a sauce bubbled cheerily on the range and potatoes crisped in the oven. Harry and Ron, although released from their monotonous task, weren't allowed to go and find Chrissie, because Mrs Weasley said she didn't want to "Crowd the poor dear."

They discussed quidditch and the weather (or at least they pretended to discuss quidditch and the weather whilst keeping an eye on the door in case Chrissie came in and listening to Remus mutter comments about the headlines under his breath.)

There was a loud bang at the top of the stairs, and Sirius' mother began her usual routine of shrieking and insults. Harry heard Sirius shouting back and fighting with the curtains until the noise abated. Lupin went to help, and Mrs Weasley tutted.

Altogether nothing much happened.

Mrs Weasley looked at the potatoes in the oven and left the kitchen to fetch the other members of the odd, dysfunctional family that was the Order.

When Hermione and Ginny entered, followed by Sirius and Fred and George, a small, dark-haired girl was chatting animatedly to them. As far as Harry and Ron could see, she was small for twelve, and a little shy. She looked nervously at Lupin as she walked in, and he gave her an encouraging smile, before ensconcing himself between Mr Weasley and Sirius, with Bill on the side beside Sirius. Chrissie sat beside Ginny, and Fred and George plonked themselves next to her. Mrs Weasley gave them a warning look.

As the meal commenced, Harry placed Chrissie. He _had _seen her around Hogwarts, only she was always in the company of three other first- years (Or second-years now he supposed) He didn't know any of them aside from their being… well, not _constantly_ in trouble, but mostly just too curious for their own good.

Another thing he noticed was that she didn't pay him any attention.

Not that he was complaining, it made a nice change, but Harry felt he'd like to know why. Maybe going to school with Famous Harry Potter took the shine off it, but the other students still stared at him… he pondered this for a minute while half-heartedly listening to Ron and Hermione bicker about SPEW and elf rights. It didn't matter, he decided. Maybe there were sane people in the world.

After dinner Lupin put on his cloak to leave, walking and then getting the knight bus as far as… wherever it was that he lived. Turned out he was no fan of the Floo network. Chrissie had a quiet word with him in the hall before he left. Quieter than normal. Any conversation held in proximity of Sirius' mum's portrait was pretty quiet, but this was near silent.

"Wonder what they're talking about." Ron muttered aloud to Harry and Hermione from three floors up.

"For goodness sake, Ron, she's allowed to say goodbye to him if she wants!" Hermione didn't take any notice. Harry wasn't so sure though.

*………*

"They're nice people, I'll be fine."

Remus sighed. "I know they are, but if you don't like it, we can work something out, that's all I'm saying."

"You worry too much. Anyway, I've got to learn to get on with all sorts of people, remember?" Her tone was slightly bitter.

Remus didn't answer. "I'm coming back for dinner tomorrow, ok?"

She hugged him. "See you soon." Then a pause. "Uncle Remus..?"

"What is it?"

"Should I tell them?"

Remus considered the question. "Yes. Telling people is probably a good idea. Keeping on the right side of the law and everything."

"How?"

"How should you tell them? I'd just mention it, like it's not a bad thing."

"Casually?"

"That's right. They might need a while to get used to the idea, but they'll come around in the end. They're good kids, and Molly and Arthur won't mind. Sirius already knows. Just don't worry about it. See you tomorrow then." He opened the door and stepped out into the night.

*………*

Harry and Ron watched Chrissie close the door, suddenly looking much younger than twelve. She chewed a nail, one arm around her waist. Finally, she appeared to pull herself together, and she walked, purposefully back into the kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything else for that matter, because JK Rowling does. However, now I come to think of it I _may, perhaps_ own a certain seven tattered, dog-eared and generally falling apart copies of her books…

OK, to all those who are waiting for the next chapter of Odderer and Odderer. Sorry. What can I say? It has been FOREVER. It's getting there, but do you think it's a bad sign if I get stuck in the third chapter?

To everyone wanting to get on with it, and who read the first part… Thanks for sticking with. It means the world.

ALSO! Nearly forgot thanks a whole bunch and a half to Fan O' Fanfic, who actually gave this a title. "Parilitas" Is Latin for equality. All will become clear in the next chapter, I promise.

**Chapter 2 **

"Mrs Weasley..?" Chrissie spoke quietly, with little enthusiasm.

"What is it dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, preoccupied.

Chrissie bit her lip. "Erm…"

Mrs Weasley didn't turn away from the washing-up.

"Never mind." Chrissie hurried from the room, causing Mrs Weasley to look up in consternation. She brushed it off as nothing.

*……*

"So that went well." Chrissie mumbled in a sort of trance. "Fan-bloody-tastic."

Harry listened to this with scepticism and interest. Chrissie turned pink as she rounded the top corner of the stairs and came face-to-face with Harry.

"Hi." It sounded more like a question, coming from her.

"Hi." There was silence. "So… you're Remus' niece?"

"Yep."

"Cool." Harry searched for something else to say. What could he say to this girl he only knew by sight, and even then only as 'that dark-haired kid who hangs around with those giggly first-year girls who are in trouble pretty much all of the time'.

Chrissie pointed up the next flight of stairs. "I'm going to…"

Harry followed her gaze. "Oh, yeah. Um. See you."

"Bye." She continued up the stairs. Harry could have sworn he heard her mutter 'Awkward' under her breath as she climbed the stairs.

Ron re-appeared from his and Harry's room. "What was that about?"

Harry shrugged. "Just one hell of an awkward conversation."

"She's a little shy." Hermione's voice made Ron jump.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione rolled her eyes pointedly at him.

"Anyway, about SPEW-" Ron and Harry groaned in chorus.

*……..*

Chrissie walked all the way to the top of the house, where she found Sirius digging through a pile of papers. She smiled shyly at him, looking around for something obviously not there.

"Remus left then?"

Chrissie nodded. "About five minutes ago, he's back for dinner tomorrow."

"Told anyone yet?"

Chrissie gaped at him. "Are you one of them mind-readers?"

Sirius laughed. "You mean one of those legillimens?"

Chrissie shrugged. "If that's what I said."

"I was never any good at that. However, Professor Snape is."

"Spooky." Chrissie bit her lip, and fidgeted from one foot to the other. Sirius appeared to take the hint.

"I'm going downstairs for a cup of tea. Would you like one?"

Chrissie shook her head and muttered her thanks.

Once Sirius was gone, Chrissie picked up an unobtrusive box from the pile and began to rifle around inside it. She pulled out what appeared to be a slim, solid object, which looked heavy enough to be made entirely of metal, and yet it made a ringing, reverberating sound like a bell when she tapped her fingernails against it.

Chrissie grinned, and pulled, from the pocket of her jeans a small box, and from there, a stick of chalk. She drew a near-perfect circle on the wooden floorboards. It briefly glowed gold, before fading rapidly.

Chrissie sat down in the circle, and hugged her knees to her chest.

*……..*

"Why is she here anyway?" Ron asked, "I mean, it's not as if Lupin hasn't got a home."

"He's a werewolf." Hermione said, who'd been dragged into the conversation very easily, for someone who only moments before had been protesting that they should leave Chrissie her privacy. "It might not be safe for her to be around him."

"The full moon isn't for another two weeks." Harry reminded her.

"Oh, right." There was a pause. "So what could it be?" This was clearly one of those things that Hermione would beaver away at until she found the answer.

"Maybe she's a werewolf too." Ron suggested.

"Don't be silly, Ron. If she was a werewolf, she'd stay with him, wouldn't she? They aren't really dangerous to each other."

"She's only little…"

"Werewolves have a very strong sense of family, if they have one. They don't kill each other unless there is a huge betrayal, a misunderstanding or one has killed another's mate. On purpose. They live in packs, but Lupin said he didn't have one when I asked, said it was too dangerous for a lot of werewolves to be in the same place in case someone wandered too close, but it can have its advantages. One more level-headed werewolf may stop another biting or hurting someone, but large groups of werewolves are hardly democracies, there is an alpha male, and although Remus wouldn't want that position, he could be seen as muscling in on another's territory, and then he felt it would be difficult to come back to the wizarding world proper, as they are very reclusive, living deep in forests, and things, places people don't normally go, and all Remus' friends are wizards, so it would be hard to correspond, because even owls get lost in very thick woods and places like that, so not only would he have had to leave society and find a pack in the first place, he would need to stay isolated from any friends or relations indefinitely. They're very social, werewolves."

Ron and Harry had been lost at family.

"Hermione, have you ever _actually_ swallowed a textbook?" Harry asked after a minute's silence. Hermione eyed him frostily.

"No. I looked it up for that essay Professor Snape gave us in our third year." She sighed long-sufferingly. "If you two actually did your homework properly, you'd know that too."

"Hermione, there's doing homework properly, and then there's being obsessive!"

"Just because you slap any old thing down on paper in huge handwriting and call it an essay, Ron, doesn't mean we all do."

Harry ignored their bickering. To him, she'd seemed normal, just a little shy.

"Why does there have to be something wrong?" He interrupted.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because if everything was fine, she'd stay where she was to begin with wouldn't she?" Harry just shrugged.

"Well, I'm out of ideas." Ron stretched hugely. "Want to play wizard chess, Harry?"

"Yeah. At least I stand a fighting chance playing with him," Harry explained, to Hermione's slightly grumpy look of being left out. "You always win, Hermione."

Hermione sighed a little less irritably than before and opened the book she was holding.


	3. Chapter 3

OK, so I promised that in this one, we'd find out a little about our mysterious kid. She just has to pluck up enough courage first. Don't worry. I'm pretty sure it will happen. Probably…

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. If I did… don't even go there. Anyway, Belongs to JK Rowling, not me. I do however, own… erm… nothing. I own squat. Whoops.

Concrit is ALWAYS welcome. ALWAYS. If you have something to say, you say it.

**Chapter 3**

Chrissie sighed. She couldn't stay in her circle forever. That much was certain.

Giving the metal object a final stroke, she deposited it back in its hiding place. Rubbing the chalk circle out, she realised that she had reached a decision.

She had to tell them.

Not that she had a choice in the first place, but as her Uncle Remus was so fond of saying, even the inevitable had to be decided at some point. Besides, if she kept this up, she was going to be late.

Heaving the heavy wooden door open and pulling it shut behind her, she left the room.

*……….*

"So if she isn't a werewolf and she isn't normal, what is she?" Hermione had pulled out another book, and was rifling through it. "She couldn't be a shapeshifter, could she?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, I thought we'd agreed to leave it!"

Hermione 'hmm'ed in a non-committal manner, still flicking through her book at top speed.

"Isn't it you that told us it was _her_ business?" Harry asked

"Who cares about that, she's here for a reason, she has to be!" Hermione's voice was the same determined pitch it always was when she would not stop looking until the answer was found. It was the same voice she'd used in their first year when they were looking for Nicholas Flamel and the same one she happened to use every time they were given research homework.

Ron dragged himself inelegantly to his feet. "Look, Hermione, we're not going to find out what she is without more clues. All we know is that she's moved in here, she goes to Hogwarts and she's in Gryffindor. That's it."

"And I suppose asking her is completely out of the question." Harry, Ron and Hermione all jumped.

"What do you want, Ginny?" Ron asked in irritation.

"Mum said to tell you she want us all in bed in an hour. Long day tomorrow or something."

"It's the summer!" Ron protested. "It's only _nine o'clock_!"

Ginny shrugged, and turned to leave.

"I really do think you should ask her."

"What are we supposed to say?" Harry demanded, as soon as Ginny had left the room. "'Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but we were wondering what you are.' What's she going to say? She'll never answer truthfully."

"I dunno mate." Ron grumbled, settling himself on Harry's bed. Hermione continued to search, flicking past hags, shapeshifters, and banshees, searching for the answer to the mystery.

*……….*

Chrissie took a deep breath before entering the bedroom she, Ginny and Hermione shared. Ginny was in there, pulling on a jumper over her nightdress.

"Hi." Chrissie fiddled with the hem of her t-shirt.

"Oh, hi. My mum…" She gestured at her nightdress. Seeing the colour of Chrissie's face, she stopped. "Are you alright? You look awful."

"Yeah, I'm fine." Chrissie gulped in another breath. "So…"

"I'm going to get Mum," Ginny looked concerned. "Seriously, you don't look well."

"No! Ginny, I'm fine. I've just got to tell you…"

Ginny began to look suspicious. "Tell me what?"

"I'm kind of… a mage." There was an uncomfortable silence.

*………..*

"Wow." Ron's sarcastic declamation was grumpy. "In half an hour we have found exactly… nothing. Squat. Nada. Zippo." He would have gone on, but Harry interrupted him.

"I think we do what Ginny said."

"Don't be stupid, Harry." Surprisingly, it was not Ron who said this, but Hermione. "If she wanted to tell us she would have by now, wouldn't she?"

"Maybe. We haven't exactly spent much time around her, have we?" Harry pointed out.

"Well, I'm going to get ready for bed." Hermione announced. "It's been a long day, and -" she cut herself off as she saw Chrissie walking down the stairs outside the room, Ginny's arm around her, looking tearful.

There was silence.

"Do you think she heard us?"

*………..*

"I don't care, Chrissie." Chrissie looked up at her, absolutely aghast.

"What?"

Ginny patted her on the back.

"I don't care. And my Mum and Dad won't either. You should tell them. Fred and George will just think it's fantastic, great for more jokes. Bill-"

"I think he already knows." Chrissie mumbled. "Think Uncle R told him."

"One less person to tell." Ginny took Chrissie's hand. "Come on, let's go and tell them now. You won't have time to get all anxious about it."

"I hate the law."

"I know."

As they went down to the kitchen, Chrissie began to shake. She barely heard Hermione say "- would have by now, wouldn't she?" and ignored it.

"It'll be fine." Ginny was reassuring her. "Mum and Dad brought us all up to give everyone a chance. They won't care… well, they might _care_ but not in a bad way."

Chrissie stared at the kitchen door.

"Ok. Let's get this over with. Stupid laws." With a sense of déjà-vu Chrissie took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen.

*………..*

Mrs Weasley had engulfed Chrissie in an enormous hug, practically before she'd stuttered the words out. Mr Weasley had stood by and looked angry.

At first Chrissie had thought it was her, and was mentally preparing to leave and find somewhere else to stay, when he'd blustered out a whole rant about how unfair the system was.

In the end, they'd discussed it and they'd agreed that it could be easier on everyone, if Chrissie were to get everyone together and tell everyone at once. Although Chrissie hated public speaking, the thought of admitting her status as a mage so many times made her cringe.

*………..*

After Harry, Ron and Hermione had been brought downstairs, along with Fred and George, and Sirius had turned up from feeding Buckbeak, Chrissie mumbled it to the floor.

There was silence.

Then Sirius reached over to her and patted her awkwardly on the back.

The twins looked at each other, and said, "Well, show us then!"

Chrissie looked surprised, but showed them how she formed her fingers and a sphere of glass dropped from them. It hit the table, but bounced instead of shattering.

There was a universal intake of breath. Mrs Weasley recovered first.

"Well, I think that's enough excitement for one night. I want you all to go to bed now, we've got a long day tomorrow, I want to start on the drawing room on the third floor, I don't even want to think about the state of it. I couldn't even get through the door, when I went to see how bad it was earlier, but what I could see was _dire_."

Mrs Weasley bustled around the kitchen, polishing things that did not need it. The Weasley children, Harry and Hermione and Chrissie headed up the stairs to bed, suddenly exhausted.

*………..*

"We know now, then don't we?" Ron yawned, as he climbed into bed a few seconds later. "Mystery solved. Maybe Hermione will stop now."

"Don't think so." Harry took off his glasses and folded them on the bedside table. "She still hasn't answered the question about why she's here." Harry stopped. It had been a long time since he'd had to ask Ron about something in the wizarding world. "Ron? What is a mage?"

Ron sat up. "You don't- well, I suppose you don't… Mages have a different kind of magic. It's not channelled by a wand or anything so it's really unstable. Mages are often prosecuted. Mum and Dad say it's because people don't understand…"

"But I blew up my aunt. I mean… I'm not-"

"Nah." Said Ron, settling down. "Mages go to a special school and everything. But you know what they say. Never be around a mage who is going to loose their temper. It's horrible from what I've heard. All sorts of things happen, weather changes, things break. A person exploded once."

"How could she be dangerous? She's twelve!"

Ron shrugged, as well as he could lying down. "Cos her magic works differently to ours some of our spells don't work. And they can't be disarmed, so it's actually pretty scary if you don't trust one. Anyway, look at how much damage we caused when we were twelve. There was Aragog, and the car… you battled a basilisk…"

"But, Ron, why would she tell us? She doesn't even know us. There's no-"

But there was a rumbling snore and Harry realised that Ron was asleep. Harry lay down, and seconds later he, too was sleeping. He dreamed a strange dream. It was about a door, at the end of a corridor.


	4. Chapter 4

First, sorry to anyone who has actually been waiting for this (bet there aren't many of you!) Honest, I tried to type quick,, but my life was held hostage by school. Would you believe schoolwork is supposed to come first? Well I never did!

**Disclaimer: **It is very unlikely that I do actually own Harry Potter and have somehow forgot about it, so lets just stick with the whole "JK Rowling owns this not me" thing until IO know otherwise, OK?

Ginormous Thank you Goes to Truckles, who beta'd this, and listened to my rambling.

On with **Chapter 4**

When Harry woke, he couldn't remember his dream, although he was fairly sure there was a pirate in it, and possibly an ironing board.

Ron had disappeared, and Harry could hear some sort of muffled commotion downstairs, which, miraculously, had not disturbed Sirius' mother.

He dressed quickly and went downstairs.

At the sight of the chaos in the kitchen, he stopped short.

"I forgot to mention this bit, didn't I?" Chrissie was saying to Mrs Weasley, as the kitchen turned into Piccadilly Circus, much to the bemusement of the assorted occupants of Grimmuald Place.

Ginny, Ron, Chrissie and Mrs Weasley were all sitting around the kitchen table, but these were the only people Harry recognised. The kitchen was stuffed full of strangely dressed, noisy, and apparently starving people. He was convinced he'd never seen any of them before in his life.

"I think so, dear." said Mrs Weasley, watching two teenagers argue about a pair of socks.

"Sorry," Chrissie mumbled, and sat down next to Ginny, looking a bit forlorn.

"Don't worry," Ginny said as she passed Chrissie a piece of toast. "Mum doesn't really mind. She loves feeding anyone, and huge amounts of people suddenly turning up to breakfast is her idea of a dream come true."

"It's the most important meal of the day," Mrs Weasley announced.

Harry, who had been standing by the door in a sort of sleepy, surprised rapture, was nearly knocked flying by a person coming through the door at an immense speed.

"They're supposed to eat at _their own homes_," Chrissie said pointedly, as the boy who'd just pushed past Harry, pinched half her toast from over her shoulder. "Oi! Danny!"

Harry sat down and grabbed a bit of toast and some butter. It was only then that he noticed how Chrissie was dressed.

She wore a red beret and a red tunic, with cream trousers underneath. The tunic was tied with a cream rope, like a belt. Her long plait protruded from under the beret, which was already sliding off.

It was the same uniform as the rest of the people.

"What are you _wearing_?" Ron asked bluntly, as Harry opened his mouth.

Chrissie coloured slightly.

"It's my school uniform."

Ron gaped. His mouth hung open, in a gormless expression, like a fish.

"It's _summer_!" He said, when he'd finally regained the power of speech. "We're supposed to be on _holiday_!"

"Mages don't get holidays," she said gloomily. "Our teachers have never even heard of the concept of this 'holiday' you speak of."

The boy called Danny sniggered.

A girl, wearing her school uniform infinitely better than Chrissie and about Chrissie's age walked in at that moment.

She tapped Chrissie on the shoulder.

"And talking of the slave-drivers, we're going to be late," she said, hoisting her school bag onto her shoulder.

"This is Ollie by the way." Chrissie said, pointing at the girl who was eyeing Danny, as if she'd like to slap him. "My best friend."

"_School_." Ollie said, as she rolled her eyes, smiled at the Weasleys and Harry, then dragged Chrissie out of the door.

Harry hadn't realised that the people had left when they did, and now noticed that the kitchen was empty.

"Who were they?" He asked, into the sudden silence.

"Other mages, dear," said Mrs Weasley, tipping a couple of fried eggs and a mound of sausages onto his plate.

Hermione walked in at that moment. Yawning, she sat down on a chair and promptly jumped up again, with a squeak of horror. She picked up a lumpy brown thing and held it at arms length.

"What is _that_?"

Just then Chrissie dived back through the door, grabbed the repulsive object from Hermione's hand and ran straight out again.

"Sorry!" She shouted over her shoulder. "Objectry homework."

"What's Objectry?" asked Ron.

"No idea." said Hermione. Harry and Ron's jaws hit the floor simultaneously.

*……..*

The doxys in the drawing room had turned out to be even worse than expected. There was also a suspicious something, which turned out to be a stuffed cat's head in a cupboard, under a decanter full of what Sirius was quite sure were an ancestors ashes.

All in all it was an eventful day.

Although Chrissie did not contribute to making Grimmauld Place habitable that morning, she did turn up, a little after three o'clock and found herself promptly enlisted to the cleaning brigade by Mrs Weasley.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Fred and George were all trying to prise open a box encrusted with jewels, and, more interestingly, blood, when Chrissie arrived. At that moment Sirius came downstairs and confiscated the box, because he 'Didn't like the look of it' He then proceeded to open it, in true Sirius fashion, using a lemon, several pairs of socks, and some pliers, revealing what appeared to be a shrivelled black onion amidst a sea of suspicious yellow liquid. The box was quickly disposed of.

Ollie turned up again after this, on the pretence of homework. In actual fact, she and Chrissie sat in the kitchen, knitting and talking like old ladies. They then moved on to playing with lots of bright, shiny fabric. When Mrs Weasley asked what they were doing, they replied it was objectry homework.

It looked like no homework Harry had ever seen.

At dinner, Lupin turned up.

"How was school?" He asked, passing Chrissie the carrots pointedly.

"Horrible." Chrissie said bluntly, taking some, and passing the dish to Harry. "How was… whatever?"

"Whatever was fine."

"Chrissie?" Chrissie looked up at the sound of her name.

She peered up the table.

"Hermione?" Chrissie replied.

Hermione fidgeted with her fork, hesitating, as if weighing up how to phrase her question.

"What's objectry? I've looked everywhere I can think of and I can't find any mention of that subject…"

Chrissie put down her cup, and coloured slightly.

"Objectry is the study of how different objects affect our magic."

"Objects affect magic?" Hermione leaned towards Chrissie, nearly putting her elbow in the butter dish.

"Only our magic, we think." Seeing Hermione was waiting for more of an explanation, Chrissie sighed. "It's like… if something's bright and pretty or whatever, it makes magic happen easier than if it's slimy and depressing."

By now most of the table were listening in.

"I thought beauty was in the eye of the beholder," Lupin said, cutting into his potato.

"Yeah. So, I suppose, it's whatever you find pretty…" Chrissie shrugged.

There was a muffled explosion behind the door. They all looked up.

"Oh sh...ells on a beach!" Chrissie nearly swore then looked at Remus. He'd raised a warning eyebrow.

Ron sniggered

Chrissie dived out of her chair and opened the door, allowing a large quantity of thick black smoke to billow into the kitchen.

Two people stumbled into the room, arguing loudly. The girl seemed apologetic. The boy was just angry.

"I meant never!"

"YOU SAID _ALWAYS _ADD BELLADONNA AND FIRE-GRASS TOGETHER!"

"I meant _never…" _

"_YOU SAID-"_

Chrissie cleared her throat pointedly.

"Oh. Right." The boy had the decency to look abashed at the sight of their audience. He pointed towards the door. "Don't suppose you have any chalk?"

"Why don't you?" Chrissie said, kneeling on the floor to look in her bag.

"I _do_. It's just back there in all that…" He looked around. "Where's Dara gone?"

Chrissie shoved a stick of white chalk at him, shrugging.

He walked back into the thick smoke, waving the chalk around like some kind of air freshener.

Chrissie pushed the tin back in her bag, and sat down again.

"Sorry."

"Chalk isn't pretty," Hermione remarked a moment later. "Nobody could find chalk pretty."

Chrissie gave her a look.

"You'd be surprised. But you're right. It's the chalk in its own right. It's good for directing magic."

"Like a wand?"

Chrissie looked perplexed by the question.

"No." Her tone was a little sharp.

"These things are not obvious to everyone, you know, Chrissie." Lupin said, his voice lightly reproving.

"What I meant was," Chrissie elaborated "if you wanted to put a shield around yourself say, you'd draw a circle around yourself, then cast the spell."

"I see." Hermione nodded with interest. She began to ask another question, but Ron cut in.

"Let the girl eat Hermione!"

Harry grinned at the look on Hermione's face.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry! Seriously, I am. Ok, between everything, like Fanfic being down for days (!) and revision, and stuff I just didn't get around to anything.

Thanks to truckles for betaing this whole thing, I owe you!

**Disclaimer: **If you really think I own Harry Potter, you need your head checked. It's JK Rowling's. Durr!

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**Chapter 5**

The days settled into a comfortable routine of chaos and cleaning. No one was really sure what Chrissie did in the daytime, and no one really cared. Odd people with odder problems continued to burst into the kitchen at inappropriate moments. Hermione's interest in elves and SPEW became more increased, to the extent that Ron and Harry took to hiding whenever she went anywhere with _that_ look on her face. Lupin came round for dinner frequently and he and Chrissie had cryptic conversations.

*……….*

Harry struggled to stop laughing, but he was fighting a losing battle.

Chrissie glared at them with as much dignity as she could muster, while being covered in grey mud.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, trying to be sympathetic, but a giggle slipping into her voice.

"They forgot to mention the bog," Chrissie muttered as she was charmed clean again "Thanks, Mrs Weasley." she said, accepting a mug of tea from Mrs Weasley who was clucking around her like a mother hen, and sitting down.

"What were you doing by a bog anyway?" Ron asked.

"We got called out to deal with a Nestreah. They like bogs. Nasty thing, but we got it in the end. I fell in first though." Taking a sip of tea she winced. Mrs Weasley had obviously put sugar in it.

"Called out?" Hermione asked, curiously.

"Yeah." There was a pointed silence, as Chrissie took another sip.

"And…?" Prompted Harry, when no further explanation came.

"Oh! Right, erm, we sort of look after those sorts of things. Creatures only Mages notice. They're only really dangerous to Mages as well, although a Vestra'd give you a nasty nip. You wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of a Grehole either."

"Creatures only Mages notice…" Hermione pondered. "Like Thestrals you mean?"

Chrissie looked at Hermione as if she was mad.

"Wizards _can_ see Thestrals." She said, looking concerned about Hermione's sanity.

Harry and Ron had lost the thread of the conversation by this point and Ron was dealing out cards for another game of exploding snap instead.

"Yes, but only certain people can see them." Hermione said patiently.

"Oh right," Chrissie nodded "I see what you mean. No, nothing like that. Wizards can see them; they just take no notice of them."

"Another thing," Hermione was on a roll. "Those people, they don't come from the hallway do they?"

Chrissie blushed.

"No."

"Thought not." Hermione sat back smugly.

"But if they don't come from out there… where do they come from?" Asked Harry, feeling both left out and puzzled.

Chrissie mumbled something incoherent at the floor.

"They come from a place between worlds." Hermione said excitedly, "A place only they can go."

Ron snorted.

"Seriously cheesy." Harry agreed nodding fervently.

Hermione bristled.

"It's true!" She insisted, and Chrissie laughed. "_Is_ it true?" Hermione asked with less conviction, as Chrissie smiled amusedly at her.

"Technically, but it sounds so dramatic like that. Really it's, is a bunch of people coming through a door that could lead to two different rooms."She shrugged, attempting to covey that it was no big deal.

Just then someone burst through the 'door that could lead to two different rooms' and fell over Ginny, who'd been walking through the door at the same time. Hermione leaned back on her chair to try and catch a glimpse through the door.

"Sorry," The newcomer apologised to Ginny, as he helped her back to her feet.

"Danny," Chrissie said wearily, and Harry recognised him as one of the more frequent visitors.

"Sorry, Chris, but I really need you. We're having a small… crowd control problem." Danny said pointedly.

Chrissie tutted.

"You mean that the kids haven't stopped being hyper yet?"

Danny grabbed her and pushed her through the kitchen door.

Harry, Ron and Hermione ventured up to Harry and Ron's bedroom to escape the madness.

*………*

Hermione sat on Harry's bed, flicking feverishly through a huge book which Harry was sure she hadn't had a second ago.

"Hermione will you give it a rest?" Ron demanded, lying on his own bed, as he watched Pigwidgeon fly around the room, bouncing off the walls like a feathery tennis ball, watched haughtily by Hedwig.

"I can't help it if you have no capacity for natural curiosity," Hermione said grumpily. "What I can't understand is why there's so little written about Mages when they've been around at least as long as wizards, at least that's what Chrissie told me."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Ron.

"Because they were banned from publishing anything in 1345." Ron said matter-of-factly, clearly relishing the chance to tell Hermione something for a change.

"What? Why didn't you tell me this, Ron?" She slammed her book shut and fixed Ron with a look that wiped the grin clean off his face.

"I thought everyone knew that." Ron said, collapsing back onto his bed. "It was in that leaflet that bloke left behind the other day."

"Wow." said Hermione, irritably, "Ron actually _read_ something."

"Actually, it was written in inch-high letters on the cover." Harry pointed out. "Depends on your definition of 'read', Hermione."

Ron bashed him on the head with his pillow.

"Shut up, Harry!"

There was a knock and the door opened.

"Mrs Weasley says lunch is ready," Chrissie said despondently.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, frowning slightly.

Chrissie smiled, tiredly.

"I'm fine. Just exhausted, think I overdid it a bit."

She yawned widely.

"Overdid it?" Harry queried, leaving Hermione and Ron bickering behind them.

"Yeah. I'll be fine." She said. Seeing his look of confusion, she elaborated further. "If we use too much magic it drains off our energy, then our life force."

"It could kill you?" Harry asked in astonishment.

"Well, it leads to multiple organ failure and technically _that's_ what does you for, but yeah, too much magic kills you."

"Then why do you still do it?" Harry asked. "If it might kill you, then wouldn't it be safer to leave it alone? Just be wizards?"

"Don't you think I would if I could?" Chrissie snapped, suddenly angry. Her sudden turn of emotions caught Harry off-guard.

"Sorry," he apologised, hastily. "I didn't realise-"

Chrissie stopped his apology by shaking her head.

"No, don't apologise," she muttered, "I forget you're still new to this." Seeing he was about to protest, she waved a hand. "Relatively speaking. I have to keep doing it for the same reason that young wizards go to school. Unchannelled magic is dangerous. No two ways about it." She smiled at him again, tiredly. "Glad you asked though. Most people don't bother. And I'm sorry I snapped."

She went into the kitchen before Harry could reply.

Ron and Hermione were still bickering about something, but Harry wasn't really paying attention any more.


End file.
